


Strangers In The Night II

by elisa_anya



Series: Mafia AU Collection [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mob, Angst, Bottom Castiel, Destiel - Freeform, FBI Agent Dean Winchester, Fluff, M/M, Mafia AU, Mobster Castiel, Russian Mafia, Smut, Top Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-01
Updated: 2018-06-01
Packaged: 2019-05-17 01:47:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,209
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14822888
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elisa_anya/pseuds/elisa_anya
Summary: Getting away from his family a second time is not as easy as Castiel thought it'd be, but then again he'd been expecting them to find him again someday. Gabriel has to choose sides and Dean has to cope with the thought of losing Cas for good.





	Strangers In The Night II

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE SEE WARNINGS IN THE NOTES AT THE END  
> Hi, guys. This is the second part of a fic I wrote a while ago. I am still obsessed with the Mafia AU and I have a couple of fics in mind, although I don't think I'll be following this story line in the future, but I'll be working in new AUs instead.  
> If anyone has any good Mafia AU fics to recommend, go ahead and leave their names in the comments please.  
> Hope you enjoy this one.

_Ah, shit,_ was the first thing Dean thought the day he met Cas because if he’d thought the former mobster looked handsome in the pictures of his file, his beauty was enhanced with the live performance. His pronounced cheekbones, his rather dry yet plump lips, his long eyelashes, his muscular arms, his sharp jawline, everything could be appreciated better now than they were standing feets apart from each other. It was distracting and it made the agent’s work harder. Dean wasn’t supposed to feel like this while he zigzagged between the neighbours to get to his target and introduce himself, his heart wasn’t supposed to beat faster, his cheeks weren’t supposed to get all flushed, but they did. He wasn't supposed to be into Cas, but, _dammit, Dean,_ he undeniably was. Watching the other man standing there listening to one of the neighbours asking him where he came from, constantly looking constipated and tired and like he was about to have a mental breakdown, Dean couldn’t help but feel sorry for the guy. He shouldn’t like Castiel, he wasn’t a nice person, he’d done terrible things, but Dean couldn’t help thinking he didn’t look dangerous or evil, only… lost, alone, and, above all, _scared_. Even there, in a house in the suburbs in this boring town where a gracious host was throwing a nice barbecue party to welcome the disturbed newcomer into the neighbourhood, surrounded by people whose idea of drama and excitement was only hearing the latest gossip on each other, Castiel felt unsafe. The biggest threat here was Bill, the guy in charge of the barbecue, who always left the hotdogs a little bit uncooked for Dean’s taste.

Dean introduced himself, talked to the target for just a couple of minutes and then walked away; he wanted to stay longer, but he was supposed to be discreet and being one of only three guests there that were single, he feared Castiel would figure out who he was if he pushed too hard. He spent the rest of the day chatting with his neighbours, which he’d known for two months now, having arrived before Cas to the neighbourhood. He fitted in nicely, was warmly welcomed by married women who looked at him like he was a piece of meat and guys who stopped fearing he might steal their wives away once he told them he was gay. It wasn’t entirely true, he was bisexual, but it put their minds to rest and made his job easier, so there, one more lie in the list of things he had to remember.

Even though it could hurt his mission, it could put him on the spotlight and make Castiel suspicious, Dean found himself near the man most often than maybe he should have been, and he loved to excuse himself thinking _it’s my job_ , but deep down he knew that wasn’t the whole truth. He _wanted_ to be there. He _longed_ to be with Cas, to get to know him, and so he was constantly knocking at his door, asking him if he wanted to go for a beer or join him for dinner because, oops, Dean had made too much pasta _again_ and didn’t want to throw it away, so why not invite Cas, right? He stopped by the library where the other worked too, always finding him lost in a book at his desk, and asked him if he had one to recommend, then devoured them so he could go back as soon as possible and see Castiel again. Conversation between the two of them flowed easily and they both felt comfortable around each other. The agent kept coming back over and over again and Cas opened his door for him every single time. The joy and the butterflies Dean felt the first time he managed to make the other laugh, _actually_ laugh, with his body and all, was his last red flag; _you’re falling in love with this guy, you fool. You shouldn’t, you can’t. Get out, you need to get out!,_ a little voice in the back of his mind, that which was cautious and responsible, warned him. For just a moment, Castiel was at his peak, looking devastatingly handsome, smiling from ear to ear, wrinkling his nose in a way the agent found all too endearing. The moment turned bittersweet very quickly; he was so happy here in this fake life, with his fake job and his true friend Castiel, but he would have to leave all of it eventually. He wouldn’t be able to get out of there soon enough that he’d avoid breaking his own damn heart though; no, that was unavoidable, he liked the guy too much already and walking away from him was going to hurt. He should have put some space between them to make the separation less painful, or even better, he should have ended the assignment and told his supervisors there was no need to watch over Castiel because any idiot could tell he wasn’t going back to his family any time soon, but he couldn’t, it was like trying to defy the laws of physics, so he kept coming back against his better judgement.

The day Castiel turned on the sofa while they were watching a movie and suddenly kissed him, Dean knew there was no leaving afterwards. If he hadn’t been able to leave yet, he never would be. He had to stay, there was just no other way. Kissing Cas was like doing hard drugs and he lost himself in the other’s mouth. His hands were finally being allowed to touch all he wanted, and he explored the body he’d been daydreaming with for months with liberty while they kissed passionately. Things escalated quickly but he couldn't even pretend to be sorry about what was happening for Castiel was ripping his clothes off with such an urgency that Dean knew right away his feelings were corresponded. The happiness that brought him overshadowed any reservations, any fears he’d had about being with the other man until then. Then, when Cas so willingly turned on all fours on the sofa, every other thought other than animal _want_ was erased from Dean’s mind immediately. When he felt Castiel was a little tight, he feared hurting him as he pushed in, but when he asked the other if he should stop, if they should try another day, Cas rolled his hips back and cried out in pleasure, smiling in a way Dean would never forget. He let himself go and fucked the other senseless. When it was over, they laid on the small sofa, panting and holding onto each other so they wouldn’t fall to the ground. Dean asked permission to stay, Cas replied he wouldn’t have it any other way, but he hadn’t meant stayed _the night_ , he’d meant forever.

Everything changed after that. Castiel was so happy, Dean thought he looked like an angel, always radiant and gentle, talking kindly to everyone who came up to him or tucked away in a corner with a lazy smile on his face while he read another book. He wasn’t afraid anymore, he didn’t look like he was about to lose his shit at any moment. Instead, he looked like he wanted to live, he looked like he was in love and finally at home where he was, with Dean. It wasn’t much of a surprise when he bought the ring. Castiel didn’t know, but Dean had access to his finances; he was _supposed_ to keep an eye on them, in case Cas started receiving or sending money to the wrong people, he had to keep an eye out for any suspicious activity, and just like that he saw that Cas bought a ring. It made his heart jolt both with delight and sorrow. He wanted to say yes to him but that’d also mean saying goodbye to his family, almost for good. Before the love of his life had a chance to ask _the_ question, Dean fled to meet with his brother in secret; he needed advice, he needed someone else to tell him whether this was right or wrong because he was so conflicted about it, he didn’t know anymore.

Sam, who could read Dean like he was an open book, sat with him in a small diner tucked away in some forgotten corner of the countryside and waited patiently for Dean to say what he needed to say. They’d already hugged, they’d put each other up to date with their lives, and now Sam waited for Dean to muster the courage to tell him whatever it was that was eating him up.

Dean couldn’t look up at Sam in the eyes. He looked afflicted, in a way he never did when they spoke on the phone. He fidgeted with the small package of sugar on his hand for a moment, before he finally ripped it open and dumped all of it on his cup of coffee. Then he took a deep breath and finally met his brother’s gaze.

“Cas… _Jimmy,_ ” he corrected himself, but Sam smiled, “he, hmm… we’re…”

“Together,” Sam provided for him. They hadn’t met for months but they talked regularly on the phone the FBI provided Dean with, and whenever Dean called, Cas was almost all he talked about. Sam knew, even if Dean had never said so, that they were in love. Or at least his brother was, deeply.

Dean blushed. “Yeah.”

“Do they know? The bosses, do they know?”

Dean looked down and shook his head. “I was afraid they’d pull me out of the case.” _Maybe that would have been the right thing to do,_ he thought, but he couldn’t bring himself to regret any of his choices nor any of the millions of kisses he’d shared with Castiel.

Sam hesitated. “Well, Dean, maybe it would have been for the better,” he started, eyeing his brother carefully, studying his reactions. “I mean, you know you’re going to have to leave him in a year, right?”

The struggle in Dean’s face was obvious. His posture was tense, defensive, but, at the same time, defeated. His hands were glued to the cup of coffee, to hide that they were shaking. Hearing someone else say that out loud, that he was going to have to leave Castiel behind, knowing how much that would hurt both parties, was like a knife to his heart. Sam knew that and though the situation pained him, a part of him was glad to see his brother had found that kind of love, that someone was treating his brother the way Sam had always known he deserved to be treated.

“Unless you don’t want to,” Sam continued. Dean looked up, surprised. “Is that why you’ve come here, Dean? To… ask _permission_ , to stay with him?”

Sam could see the answer in his brother’s face. _Yes and no. I don’t want to leave you but I can’t leave him._ Dean was struggling; to put his thoughts into words, to make a decision, to keep himself from breaking into a panic while he felt trapped between a rock and a hard place. He wanted to ask for forgiveness because surely his brother had to be pissed that he was actually considering to give up his entire life, his family, for this ex-mobster he’d known for even less than a year.

His younger brother smiled, and it was sad but honest nonetheless. There was no trace of anger or resentment in his soft features, just the ache that comes when you know you’re about to say goodbye to a loved one for a long time.

“Do you love him?” Sam asked.

Dean nodded, just once, but it was enough for his brother to know that he meant it wholeheartedly, that whatever was going on between them was serious. Dean cleared his throat and said, “he bought a ring. I, hmm, saw it in his bank statements… He’s going to ask me to marry him.”

 _So soon?,_ was the first thought that crossed Sam’s mind. It wasn’t like Dean to do this kind of stuff, to be _romantic,_ to give himself so fully to someone else so damn quickly, but Sam could tell he would say yes to Castiel’s proposal if there were nothing else holding him back, no responsibilities, no heavy weight on his shoulders, no younger brother to think about.

“And you want to say yes.”

It was a statement, not a question.

Dean swallowed hard. “I do,” he confessed. He sounded like a broken man, like he was saying yes to his own death and not to marrying the love of his life. “But-”

“Well, then I am happy for you,” Sam interrupted him, offering him another smile, an encouraging one this time.

Dean closed his eyes and sighed. He almost wanted Sam to be angry, to talk him out of this because turning his back on his family was killing him. He’d always been the guy who took care of everyone, put their happiness before his own. Dean didn’t know how to be this new person, to be selfish and pursue his own wishes.

“Sam-”

“Look, you don’t want to leave us, I get it, Dean. And you’ll have to, we both know that... But I don’t want you to leave him, not if you think he’s the one.” Sam tilted his head, looking for something in Dean’s eyes. “He _is_ the one, isn’t he?”

Dean squirmed, feeling like an idiot being asked that question. He wanted to reply something sarcastic that would make him feel masculine and tough, something like, “what are we, Sammy, 15 years old girls?”, but he couldn’t because the truth was, Castiel _was_ the one.

“Yeah. I think he is. Jesus, Sam, he’s just so- he makes me feel like-” Dean took a deep breath and smiled for a moment, thinking of Cas. “You’d like him. I know you’d really like him.”

Sam nodded. That was what Dean always said when they talked on the phone and for the first time Sam was really sorry he would never get to know the man who had so easily, so quickly, stolen his big brother’s heart.

“If he makes you happy, I already do,” he whispered.

Years later, when Sam and Castiel met, they hit it off right away, much to Dean’s pleasure. The agent lived in a house off the grid in the forest somewhere in Oregon. He had a son Dean had never met before, named Jack: a sweet and cheerful 3 and a half years old boy with blond hair, like his mother, Jessica. The three of them welcomed them into their home with open arms after the incident that put them on the fun once again.

Castiel was sad to leave the life he’d grown to love so much, the normalcy of his work and the sense of community that came from befriending his neighbours, but he found that having a family made everything so much easier. Dean was crazy about his nephew, the closest thing he’d ever have to a son Cas realised since they couldn’t adopt, and the two of them could be seen playing outside on the edge of the forest whenever the man came back from work; Dean had found work as a security guard in a small bank and, for now, it’d have to do. Cas got _another_ new fake identity and got a job as a teacher assistant at Jack’s school. It was a good, simple life, just like the one he’d had before but with family dinners now. Dean was so happy to have his family back, Castiel could see it in his face every single day and though he tried to feel the same peace that was reflected in his husband’s eyes, he couldn't. He knew, in his heart, that it wouldn’t last, that they would be found again and when the time came, he hoped that his blood would be the only one shed. Somehow he was at peace with it now, though. He’d had it all, he’d got what he wanted, in the end; he experienced love, thoroughly and passionately, and no matter how little it’d lasted, it had been worth it all.

Nothing could have prepared Dean for it, though. When he saw the flames and smoke from afar, he knew something was wrong right away and his heart dropped all the way to his gut. Sam was by his side in the car, jaw clenched as he too observed the angry smoke coming from within the woods, from where his house was. Castiel was the only one at home at the moment, they were both painfully aware of it, and Dean was cursing himself under his breath - _how could I have left him alone! If anything happened to him-_ as he pressed the gas pedal with all his might, reaching a dangerous speed as he drove towards the smoke.

It was too late by the time they had arrived. The house was consumed by flames, the heat coming from it reached them all the way from where they were standing at the edge of the forest. Dean called his husband’s name a couple of times to the top of his lungs until his throat felt like it was going to explode, but no answer came. His car was still parked outside, he had to be around, lost likely inside the house. When Dean took off running towards the building, Sam tackled him and pinned him to the cold, hard ground.

“Dean, no!”

Dean fought him tooth and nails to break free but Sam was just as strong as he was. Soon, they could hear the firefighter truck sirens coming towards them.

“He’s in there! Let me go! I have to help him!” Dean growled, punching and kicking at his brother, trying to drag himself towards the flames.

“You can’t help him! You can’t!”

Dean waited, his whole body shaking violently, as the firefighters did their job. He didn’t talk to anyone and couldn’t hear anything Sam was saying to him. He refused to move when his brother tried to take him somewhere more private when people from the news arrived with cameras. It took the firemen a while to tame the fire and then what felt like an eternity to assess the remains. What seemed like three bodies were found inside and Dean shattered on the spot, breaking down in tears in front of anyone who wanted to watch the show. He screamed and pulled at his hair and Sam had to grab him from behind to stop him from hurting himself. Dean didn’t need the forensics to tell him his husband was one of the bodies reduced to charcoal, he knew.

The days that followed are a blur. He spent them drinking, sleeping or staring into the ceiling, lost in grief and overwhelming anger; at himself, for leaving Castiel alone that day, and at the people who killed him, whoever they were. When the FBI refused to take him back into the case, Sam was the only thing stopping him from running after the Novaks and seeking his own revenge, however illegal. He didn’t care if he spent the rest of his life inside a prison if he got to hurt his husband’s murderers at least a quarter of how much they’ve made him suffer, but Sam didn’t let him go.

“That won’t bring him back, Dean,” his brother told him, “you need to be patient, I promise you’ll be okay again,” he swore, like time would heal his wounds, but Dean grew up the son of John Winchester, a man forever mad with grief over his wife’s death and, finally, his son understood how he felt. There was no healing this wound, no getting over Castiel, not now, not ever.

They moved away, started off somewhere new with the money the insurance paid Sam. His brother insisted he came with them and kept a careful eye on him. He wasn’t sure what he feared the most; that Dean might do something stupid like driving to Chicago and get himself killed or arrested for murder, or that he might do something stupid like just killing himself right there and then.

And he wanted to. Oh, how Dean wanted to. Although he’d never feared death, he’d also never wanted to die before. Now, he did. He didn’t actively _try_ to harm himself, but the thought of a car running him over and suddenly ending his suffering didn’t sound bad at all. He even wished for it, sometimes.

“I’d rather be dead, at least then I’d be with you,” he whispered a prayer to Castiel as he played with his wedding ring, the last probe of his affair with him. As usual, he laid fully awake in the middle of the night, staring at the ceiling until he blacked out out of sheer exhaustion.

But he couldn’t do that to his family, he wouldn’t put them through the pain of burying him too. He hated that he couldn’t even kill himself without feeling guilty about it and responsible for the people he loved; what would Sam or Bobby feel like, what if they blamed themselves? What if Jess or Jack found him, and he scarred them for life? No, he couldn’t do that to them, so Dean put on a brave face, drank himself to sleep night after night and continued breathing for the sake of other people’s happiness.

“You need to be patient,” Sam said over and over again and Dean just didn’t want to hear it anymore. Time was just something that stood between Dean’s life and his death. He was impatient, if anything, he couldn't wait for all of it to be over, for him to be old, with grey hair, and finally have permission to die.

Several months later, a shell of a man works tirelessly on a car. The job keeps him alive as much as drinking and his family do; it keeps his mind busy, away from Castiel, if only for a little while. He works after hours and doesn’t ask for the rightful pay he should get from it. He works and works until the sun sets outside the mechanic shop and everyone else is gone. He works because there’s nothing left for him outside of work but an empty space in his bed and people who look at him with fear in their eyes, like he could lose it at any given moment and they might have to pick up his pieces. And they’re right, he might.

The little bell by the door rings when someone comes in.

“Sorry, it’s close,” he shouts from where his head in buried under the hood of the car. He wipes the sweat off his forehead, leaving a trail of grease behind without realising it.

He sighs with annoyance when he doesn’t hear the bell again, meaning whoever came in hasn’t left. He puts his towel down and walks around the car, ready to repeat himself, when he sees the person standing next to him. He stops, frozen in place, and looks at the beautiful replica of his dead husband in front of him. He stares, agape, feeling his heart constrict with pain.

If he’s honest with himself, it’s not the first time he sees Castiel since he's died. Sometimes he’s got very realistic dreams with him and then he confuses them with reality, other times he downright imagines he’s there as a consequence of lovely hallucinations, courtesy of the heavy alcohol he consumes and being tired from lack of proper sleep. He loves them because he gets to see his husband again but they leave him feeling bitter and broken all over again, like it’s the first day he lost him all over again.

He’s not drunk now though, so he must be going insane. That doesn’t worry him, however, doesn’t trouble him as much as the angel before him does. He looks so beautiful, just like he remembered. He never wants him to leave yet knows he will. He always leaves and it hurts so much every single time. He doesn’t want to see him again, not until it’s permanent, he can’t take the abandonment anymore.

“Cas,” he chokes on the syllable, tears in his eyes.

His angel smiles tentatively. “Hello, Dean.”

Dean’s knees give in and he falls to the ground in front of Castiel, crying his heart out with his face buried in his hands, a brutal panic attack overpowering him.

“Don’t do this to me,” he begs. “I can’t take it anymore! Either take me with you or don’t come back at all!”

Castiel’s face falls. “W-what?” He kneels in front of Dean and tries to take his hands away from his face. Dean pushes him back, startled. The touch of Castiel’s hands on his has never felt so real before, not with hallucinations. Cas raises his hands as a peace offering and lowers his voice, speaking in a soothing voice. “Dean, it’s me. It’s _really_ me. I’m here.”

Dean glares at him, retreating as he gets to his feet until his back hits the car behind him. He tries to control his breathing as he studies the man before him. It looks real, sounds real, _feels_ real, but it can’t be-

“I don’t believe you!” he shouts, running his hands through his head nervously. He shuts his eyes tightly and goes on, “you’re not here, you’re _not_ here-”

“Dean-”

Gentle hands touch him again and Dean reacts badly, gripping the front of Castiel’s shirt, pushing him until he’s got him pinned against the wall. He’s confused, furious, and beyond all _scared_ , because he wants to believe what’s been said to him so badly, but if this is just another trick of his treacherous brain-

“I’m here,” Cas gently says, his hands around Dean’s wrists, thumb drawing circles over his skin. “I came back for you. I’m here.”

Dean’s eyes are wide and shiny with tears. He waits, frozen, as Cas leans in with his eyes locked in Dean’s lips, and when they kiss it feels just right, just like it always did. Dean melts and sighs, opening his mouth to deepen the kiss right away with a pathetic, defeated sigh. He presses their bodies together, feels all of Cas against him as he hold him against the wall. The kiss gets more passionate, more urgent, and when Dean pulls away, he’s panting for air.

Another tear rolls down his face. He sighs, tired; of work, of life, of everything. “I miss you,” he murmurs. “Stay, please. Will you? I don’t want to wake up yet. Just a little longer, Cas...”

He leans in again, but Castiel takes his face on his hands and forces him to look up. “Dean,” he starts, tone urgent, demanding attention, “you’re _not_ dreaming. I’m not dead. I never was. You just had to think I was.”

Dean blinks a couple of times. He can taste Cas in his mouth, he can _smell_ him too. He never has before, not in a dream.

“I don’t understand-”

Castiel shifts with what little space he’s got left, looking guilty. “They found me again, they were never going to stop looking, not until they knew I was dead… So… I staged my death with the help of my brother, Gabriel, and, hmm… and, well, Sam’s too.”

It takes Dean a minute to process that information. His facial expression goes from grieving, to confused, to some kind of understanding. His hands flattened against Castiel’s chest, as if he were trying to probe the other man was actually there. He looks up, breathless for a moment, and, finally, his expression turns into _anger._ Red, dangerous, visible _anger._ His grip of his husband’s clothes tightens and he lifts him up until Castiel’s standing nearly on the tip of his toes.

“You did _what_ now!”

**_A year ago._ **

Dean had that blush in his cheeks he always got when he was slightly drunk, and he was smiling, biting his lower lip, looking like he was up to no good. His hand moved further up Castiel’s thigh under the table of their booth on the bar and his partner jumped in response, looking around to make sure nobody saw what was happening.

“Dean!” he scowled the other.

“Come on, Cas, it’s dark,” his husband whispered hot in his ear. “I want to touch you, now.”

Castiel swallowed hard and looked around the bar to see if anyone was looking at them. It was rather empty that night, nobody was paying attention at them and the place was indeed quite dark too. They could get away with it, probably.

“No.”

“You don’t sound too convinced,” Dean smirked. His hand kept moving until it reached its desired destination; an already semi-hard bulge under Castiel’s now tight jeans. “Ah, I see you want me to touch you just as much as I wanna touch you.”

Cas gave him a hard look; _get it over with or get your hand off,_ it ordered. Dean took a sip of his beer calmly as his other hand undid the button of Cas’ jeans, pulled the zipper down and then sneaked inside his husband’s briefs. The other suppressed a moan, biting the insides of his cheeks and he occupied his hands with his own beer.

“So, long day today at work?” Dean asked, grinning from ear to ear as he jacked Castiel off under the table. His husband glared at him as he obviously tried to contain all the sounds he’d normally be making if they were alone. Dean chuckles. “I see you’re so tired you can’t even speak, Cas, wow!”

The other rolled his eyes and then his hips, fucking into Dean’s hand with discrete movements. Dean’s thumb moved over the head of Cas’ cock, spreading the pre-come leaking from the tip all over the surface of the length. Cas shruddered and Dean’s eyes widened with hunger and determination. He stroked him faster, applying a little pressure, biting his lip as he smiles, hard himself just from watching Castiel, but he didn’t mind it, he didn’t want anything in return but to carve the image of his husband coming under the table of the bar on his mind forever. Cas leant over the table with his elbows and hid his face on his hands for a moment, coughing to cover the sounds he was finding it hard to bite back as he spilled in his husband’s hand.

Dean removed his hand from under his husband’s boxers and sipped beer, all while he grinned. He looked sideways at Castiel, still teasingly but with adoration too, as the other came down from his high.

“Hey, would you mind bringing some tissues from the bathroom?” Dean asked, wrinkling his nose a little bit. The cum in his hand was starting to get dry and he didn’t want to walk around with it in case anyone saw him.

Cas nodded sheepishly and got out from the booth, legs trembling as he got to his feet. He dragged himself to the bathroom, smiling constantly, feeling the endorphins working their magic on him, making him light as a feather and stupidly happy. He cleaned himself up quickly and just as he was washing his hands, the door opened. He froze when he looked up and saw the person standing behind him in the mirror. He didn’t move, try to defend himself or ask for help. If it had to happen, better have it be as quick and painless as possible, without any witnesses that could get hurt. He had to admit, though, that he had hoped they wouldn't find him again so soon. This is way sooner than what he'd expected.

But Gabriel didn’t make a move on him, just locked the bathroom door and smiled at him through the mirror.

“Good to see you again, baby bro,” he greeted Cas with that half-smile of his.

Castiel swallowed hard as he turned around. “Can’t say I feel the same way, Gabriel.”

Gabe chuckled and opened his arms invitingly. “Oh, come on! I always thought I was your favourite brother.”

“You were- still are,” he admitted, “but then again you’re all a bunch of murderers, the bar wasn’t set too high.”

“ _We_ , you mean, Cassie,” Gabe corrected him, lifting a finger and pointing back and forth between them. Castiel narrowed his eyes at him, not liking being reminded of the things he'd fought hard to put behind him. He wasn't that person anymore, the brother Gabriel used to had, or so Cas liked to believe. “Anyhow, I still think you’d rather see me than, let’s say, Lucifer, huh? Or Michael? Yikes, those two are really out to get ya.”

“I am. Hopefully, you’ll make it quick. You were always a good shot, may I ask you go straight for the head, no teasing, no torture?”

“Wow, Cas, you’re that eager to die?” Gabe asked, lifting an eyebrow. “Didn’t think you’d want to leave your boyfriend there hanging out to dry. The guy’s waiting for you, hand full of cum. That’d be just rude if you don’t go back with the tissues.”

Castiel’s cheek burned a hot red, both due to embarrassment and anger. “Leave him out of this. It’s me you want, I’ll go willingly.”

Gabe laughed. “Why are you so convinced I’m here to hurt you?”

“Why else would you be here?” Cas replied bluntly.

His brother’s smug expression faltered ever so slightly. “Because, believe or not, I _care_ about you. You’re my brother, Cas. You made things a hell of a lot more difficult for us back at Chicago with all that talking to the FBI the way you did, but I was _glad_ you got out, okay? You never had the stomach for our type of life and it would had got you killed eventually. I was sorry to hear when they found you, I really was, but real proud that you took out two of Raphael’s best men all by yourself. This time around, you’re lucky _I_ have found you before our dear brothers did, but if I’m here it means they could be too, and soon.”

“You’ve come to warn me, that’s it?”

“No, that’s pointless, they’ll keep looking for you until they get what they want, and, trust me, Lucifer says he wants you back alive, if you know what I mean. I am here to offer you a way out, _permanently_ , but it’s going to take a lot of planning and there’s just no time to talk about that right now, your boyfriend’s out there waiting and he’s going to get suspicious if you don’t come out soon.”

“Husband,” Cas corrected him in a quiet, hesitant a voice. “He’s my husband.”

Gabriel paused for a moment, then smiled. It was one of the few real smiles Castiel had ever seen in him. “Was he worth it?” Cas nodded, smiling like an idiot in love despite the situation they’re in. “Good, that’ll keep you motivated. This is what’s gonna happen, Cas. Tomorrow, you and that tall guy from the FBI you live with-”

“Sam, Dean’s-”

“- will join me here for lunch, 1.30 p.m. sharp, alright? Ditch Dean, he can’t know.”

“Alright.”

They looked at each other for a moment, stopping to re-learn their faces after going years without seeing each other. Gabe had aged but it suits him. He still managed to look entertained and relaxed despite what he did for a living. Cas advanced, not without some trepidation first, and pulled his brother into a hug. Gabe closed his eyes and took a deep breath, holding his brother back for just a couple of seconds. He pulled back first and smiled teasingly at Cas one last time.

“Don’t forget the tissues,” he joked before leaving the bathroom.

**_Present time._ **

Castiel allows Dean to press him against the wall, and calmly makes a summary of the situation. “My brother Gabriel found me, Dean. He meant no harm to us, but it was a matter of time until the rest of the family found me too. He came up with a plan, a good one, that Sam agreed to help with. We staged my death, planned it carefully. Sam sent Jack and Jess away to see her parents so they’d be out of the way, and Gabe tipped off Lucifer’s men on my whereabouts through other people, so it’d look believable. He was there with me when they came, helped me… helped me take them down. Those three bodies, that was them.”

“But- but the forensic examiner said-” He remembers, all too excruciatingly, having that file read out loud to him, confirming the death of his husband.

“She owed Sam a favor,” Cas shrugs as much as he can while being held so tightly.

Dean grits his teeth, hands shaking with the intensity of a snowball of feelings that again threaten to overwhelm him. “How could you- dammit, Cas, how _could_ you?” he growls through his teeth. “Do you have _any_ idea what you put me through, what I-” he inhales sharply, struggling with the lump on his throat.

“I’m sorry, Dean,” his husband pleads. “I had to. You had to believe it, it had to be real so my brothers would take your pain as confirmation. Otherwise they would have known it was a lie. They’ve been watching you and I couldn’t come back until Gabriel told me it was safe. I’ve missed you, I’ve missed you so much.”

Dean’s jaw’s trembling and he’s fighting back tears. A stubborn part of him still doesn’t want to believe it because if he ends up waking up in two minutes, he is going to lose his fucking mind. He’s been over this so many times, dreaming of Cas, that he is back, safe and sound, only to wake up to heartbreaking disappointment when the sun rises…

He moves his hand slowly, from Cas’ chest to his neck. His fingertips tremble along the way  He feels Castiel’s heartbeat, quick and oh so very real under warm skin. He huffs a laugh, a little hysterically, as he sheds some more tears, then looks up at his husband, at that sea of blue he wants to get lost in.

“You’re back?” he asks, voice soft now, full of hope. “You’re really back?”

Castiel smiles, chapped lips stretching. He does that thing where he looks at Dean like he’s the only person in the entire world, his one and only reason to live for. For the first time in a long time, Dean breathes in and feels like, _finally_ , the air fills his lungs and he’s alive again.

“I am.”

“And you’re never leaving me again?”

“Never.”

Dean kisses him almost angrily, as if letting out his frustrations with his mouth. It's rough and quickly, Cas barely has time to respond. It’s all teeth and tongue and sloppy, but Dean doesn’t have time to stop and be gentle as he presses their bodies together to the point Cas barely has space to breathe. He runs a hand through Castiel’s ever messy hair and pulls, gaining a gasp from him as his head is thrown back. Dean bites and kisses his neck desperately, grinding their hips together, feeling the other get hard against him as fast as he does. It’s been a long time, _too_ long, since he’s felt anything remotely close to this pleasure, this _joy_ , this excitement running through his veins.

Castiel fumbles blindly with Dean’s jeans, working them open, then his own. Then, his husband’s grabbing his hips and turning him around, yanking their underwear down with hurried tugs. Cas waits, panting with his forehead against the wall, as Dean spits into his hand and strokes himself quickly before he lines himself up with Castiel’s entrance and pushes in, slowly. He moans loudly, not even stopping to consider that he left the door of the shop open and anyone could walk in on them. Let them, let them see them together at last, happy, in love.

Cas pushes back against his cock, helping Dean as he buries himself inside him. His mouth falls open in a silent plea as he feels the other’s dick twitch inside him. He’s been dreaming about this too, of coming back, of feeling this full again by the one and only man who ever touched him. He’s pretended to enjoy sex with a lot of women throughout is life, for the sake of keeping up appearances, but there’s no need to act when he’s with Dean. He’ll get it whenever he wants to, his ever willing husband never fails to provide him with cascades of pleasure and he gives Castiel just what he wants again now, thrusting in and out quickly, almost as if the hasty pace could make up for the months they’ve spent apart from each other. Dean knows he’s not going to last much longer, he’s been deprived of sex for a long time and the pool of pleasure building in his lower stomach is becoming overwhelming very quickly. He snakes a hand around Cas’ body and grips him tightly, jerking him off at the same rhythm as they’re fucking. Castiel lets his head fall and his hands close into fists against the fall. Dean jerks his hips quickly, his skin slapping against Cas’ ass, filling the air with pornographic sounds as he comes hard inside his husband, bending over himself as he gasp loudly. Still hard, Dean continues to fuck into Cas until he feels the other tremble, hot scum spilling into his hand only a second later. He strokes him through it, chuckling like an idiot, planting kisses on the back of Castiel’s neck.

Still panting, Cas turns around as he awkwardly pulls his pants up. Dean cleans his hand in his already very dirty clothes, not giving them a second thought as he pulls Castiel in for another, more gentle kiss. It’s slow and soft, full of love and patience as they feel stubble against stubble, reddened lips against each other, soft strokes of tongues dancing around one another.

Dean breaks the kiss to look at Cas. Green eyes look alive again, tired but calm. He strokes Castiel’s cheek with his clean and receives a warm smile in return.

Suddenly, Dean frowns with annoyance, but there’s no erasing that smile off his face when he tries to sound pissed off.

“So, Sammy was in on this whole charade, huh? No wonder the asshole kept telling me to be patient. Oh, he’s never going to hear the end of it when we get home!”

Castiel chuckles with endearment. _Home_ . There was a time when he used to wonder where that was, if he’d ever have one at all. He’s had many different houses, but he learned the hard way that didn’t mean you had a _home._ Now, he’s going to live in a a brand new house. It didn’t matter what it looked like, if it was full or empty of furniture, what the floor was like, how big the kitchen was, as long as Dean was in it. Dean. Dean was his home.

**Author's Note:**

> Warning, just in case: this fic briefly depicts suicidal thoughts, although there's no self-harm.


End file.
